


Milking

by Cataraction



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Filming, Forced Orgasm, Milking, Molasses Cum, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Voyeurism, Yes you read that right, i'm disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cataraction/pseuds/Cataraction
Summary: Poor Terror is learning the hard way why you don't have so many enemies.





	Milking

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon that The Terror has thick, gooey cum that looks like molasses. I don't know is why. I just think it's hot. Enjoy.

Out of everything, Terror hated three things above all else: being humiliated, being taken advantage of and Mondays. His only reprieve from what was happening was the fact it wasn't a Monday. He was greatly regretting even having this damn thing built now. He remembered having the infernal contraption built a couple decades ago for some scheme he had that involved milking all the cows in the world dry. Leaving him with the only supply of milk, he planned to just dump it or let it curdle rather than force the world to buy from him. He was evil, not money hungry, afterall. However, given his current situation, he wished he'd never had it built in the first place. Especially since that plan backfired. 

He'd never imagined he'd be hooked up to his own creation, yet alone this one. As much as he didn't mind being nude and sucked off, this was by no means what he wanted. Covering his cock was a clear chamber that encased the entirety of his shaft. At first, the intense alternating suction it had was fairly pleasant. Now, after what he thought was about 3 orgasms, it was just painful. The clear chamber was attached to a longer tube that lead to the rest of the machine and fed whatever it could suck out into a large tank. At this point, the inside of the chamber and tube leading away from it was coated in a thin layer of his cum. Unlike most men, Terror's cum was no longer a pearly white. Be it his many experiments or some other accident along the way, his cum had long ago turned a dark brown and was much more viscous. On more than one occasion, he'd been told it looked like molasses. This meant a lot of it stuck to the inside of the chamber and tubing like glue and rather than get sucked up into the tank, would just drool along the inside. 

He chewed and sucked at the rubber bit in his mouth. The black bar was drenched in his saliva at this point and was littered with bite marks where his gold teeth had dug in. It was forced far back in his mouth, pressing his mouth open as it jammed against his jaw. His wrists and arms ached from the steel restraints and he was sure his knees were bruised given how long he'd been forced to kneel on the concrete floor. He recognized it as one of his own dungeons given the fact his playlist of "relaxing" music was on and had been running on loop for God knows how long. At this point, he wasn't even sure he cared about how long he'd been there for. He knew it was too long already. But the machine showed no sign of stopping. 

His moans and whines had tapered off long ago and the only noises he made now were pained whimpers and yelps. His throat was raw from use and his voice cracked and squeaked with every sound. At first, he shivered from the cool air around him, now he just shook from the sheer exertion. His hips jittered and bucked forward more automatically than anything. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't squirm away. He just had to sit there and take it until whatever asshole who decided to do this to him, came back to unhook him. 

He considered only for a short time before his first orgasm who it could have been. An angry henchman, old enemy, disgruntled prostitute. Only for a moment did he consider Lint, before remembering she was far more the type to just shock him in the balls and call it a day. Regardless of who it was, he vowed to kill them himself when he got his hands on them. That was all before the first orgasm, and before he realized just how long he was going to be there. 

Drool dripped down his chin onto his chest and neck, coating him in a shiny layer of saliva. At this point he could only pant and groan, as he had no strength to do anything else. Given how slow the sucking motion was, it took far too long for each orgasm to peak, but it kept him on edge for what felt like hours. In reality, it was more likely 10-15 minutes. His balls ached and his cock felt raw and overused. The stickiness of his cum only made the suction harder and gave little help in way of lubricant. The few times he could get his eyes to focus, he found the head of his cock to be a bright red and purple colour that trailed down half his shaft. The veins and vessels along the length seemed more prominent than ever, throbbing and twitching along with his cock with every wash of arousal that was both painful and somehow still pleasant.

His eyes rolled back again as he felt another orgasm approaching despite how desperately he wished it wasn't. He was painfully aware of his balls tightening against his body again and his hips rocking into the sensation regardless of what he wanted. He let out husky mains and whines that were definitely louder when this ordeal started. His face flushed a dull pink and his tongue slid out past the gag in his mouth as he panted harder. Just as his eyes slid shut, his entire body tensed and leaned back, attempting to press his cock further into the chamber. His hips stilled and his eyes screwed shut as he came, slowly spilling the overly thick cum into the tube. With each orgasm, the amount he came got less and less and by now he barely came at all. 

In the aftermath his body shook threatening to let him fall over. His breathing was loud and laboured, littered with incomplete words and attempted curses. Still, without pause or consideration, the machine continued on sucking at his cock, barely moving the cum inside it. It'd been years since the Terror had cried, several decades at the least, but he felt he could nearly cry now. He held it back out of sheer spite for whoever did this. 

Peering in through a small, two way mirror, were two men both in black. However one was adorned in the typical helmet and jacket that all of Terror's henchmen wore while the other was decorated in more weapons and a heavy, steel helmet. 

"You think that's enough? Four's a lot, dude." 

Overkill shook his head slowly, still watching the man in the other room squirm. 

"Nah...one more I think."

The henchman shrugged.

"Fine man, but it's on your head when he gets out."

With that they sat back and waited. Overkill leaned over to check the battery on the camcorder he'd set up. Still more than enough power for another twenty minutes. Perfect.


End file.
